


Tethering

by peonylanterns



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Reader, Mob AU, Short Chapters, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peonylanterns/pseuds/peonylanterns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans' hand wraps around your jaw and tilts your face upwards. You keep your eyes fixed firmly on the star that he’s slipped into his coat pocket, its dim glow still visible through the dark cloth.</p><p>“look at me.”</p><p>Hesitantly, haltingly, you force your gaze upwards. The lights in his sockets are cold and unwavering.<br/>“from now on, you answer to me, and me alone. got that?”</p><p>Critique heavily encouraged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“gonna give you a choice here,” Sans says. He’s looking at the four-pointed star in his hand, its golden light streaming from between his gloved phalanges. “you can do as i say, or you can watch me break this thing right now.”

“You’re bluffing. There’s no fucking way that you’d - oh god -”

He brushes the save point with his thumb and it's like he’s touching the inside of your pulse, a fluttering burst of panic that struggles against the cage of his fingers.

“i’ll give you to the count of five. one.”

He tightens his fist. Your heart thuds against your chest as pressure begins to blossom between your ribs.

“two.”

You swallow hard. “Don't -” you say, but your tongue is thick in your mouth and your reluctant words are sticking in your throat.

“three.”

“You can’t - you wouldn’t -”

“four.”

You can feel the hairline cracks starting to form, the fragile luminescent shell beginning to crumble beneath the strength of his grip. “Stop it, stop it, stop,” you manage to choke, “I’ll do it, I’ll do what you want, just _stop, please stop hurting me -”_

He loosens his hold.

“yeah,” says Sans, “that’s what i fucking thought.”

 

-

Thanks so much to [neroli9](http://archiveofourown.org/users/neroli9/profile) for beta-ing this. Her Sans/Reader mob au fic, [A Puzzle Just for Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6776461/chapters/15487282), is an incredible piece of work. Amazing world building and mind blowing erotica, check it out.

 


	2. Chapter 2

He had met you for the first time in the fall of last year.

The dips in the pavement brimmed with shallow puddles that day, the result of the previous night’s rain. Water falling from the cloudless cavern ceiling - it’s for irrigation purposes, people like to say, but everyone knows the reason behind the scheduled showers lies more in homesickness than anything else. In winter, there’s even snow.

So Sans had been thinking about the movements of hypothetical clouds across hypothetical skies, as he always does when he’s reminded of precipitation, and not paying much attention to his surroundings at all when he opened the door to Muffet’s cafe.

Preoccupied by the donuts you’d bought and just about to exit the establishment, you had walked straight into him. The collision knocked your box of pastries out of your arms and your brown woolen cap off of your head. Sans caught both items with a reflexive burst of magic, freezing your things in midair, in midfall.

“all right there, kid?”

“Yeah.” Even now he can recall the sheepish grin on your face, standing there in your boy’s clothes and scuffed boots. Navy coat with patches at the elbows, a smudge of powdered sugar at the edge of your mouth. “Sorry about that. And thanks.”

Then you collected your things and left, walking briskly in the opposite direction, and Sans had shrugged and turned his thoughts elsewhere. It was only later that night, while directing a routine shipment to Tony Sabella’s warehouse, that he realized something had been off.

-

The drive to the warehouse had been even more miserable than usual. This being early September, the demand for pumpkin-themed alcohol had shot up: pumpkin ale, pumpkin cider, pumpkin beer  - even pumpkin whiskey. Sabella himself had ordered twice the usual amount this month, and they’d had an extremely hard time trying to fit the crates of alcohol into the cars. In the end, the drivers were forced to stack them precariously and drive very, very slowly so as not to upset their cargo.

Sabella’s men in turn had had considerable trouble unloading their product. Packed tightly, wedged between seats and machinery, the crates had been difficult to load and even more difficult to extricate. One man had pulled a bit too hard, reeling backwards when his crate came loose, and knocked an entire stack over. Without thinking, Sans caught the boxes in midair with blue magic and was about to set them on the ground when -

A chorus of pistols cocked from behind him. Shit. He’d forgotten how fidgety humans tended to be with any sort of display of magic.

“easy, fellas.” He’d let the boxes clatter to the ground, bottles audibly breaking in their cases and spilling their contents all over the warehouse floor as he did so, then put his hands up. “just makin’ sure you get your money’s worth.”

The remainder of the job had gone without incident. But Sans spent the rest of the night remembering the way you’d casually plucked your things out from empty space and turned around without even sparing him a second glance.

It had taken the second meeting for him to confirm what you were. Then the third to place you in his grasp, and the fourth, the one currently unfolding in your cramped apartment, to finally secure you.

 

 

-

As always, immense thanks goes to [neroli9](http://archiveofourown.org/users/neroli9) for editing this and giving me much needed feedback.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please consider leaving a comment. If you hated it, leave a comment anyway so that I can improve in the future. Thanks!
> 
> Feel free to shoot me a message at peonylanterns.tumblr.com


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